


Would You Like Your Receipt in the Bag?

by themutesinger



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cashier AU, M/M, the result of that one post on tumblr that ended up with almost 700 notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4139097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themutesinger/pseuds/themutesinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo knew that Hobbiton was not a very large town, but he still felt that it was somewhat ridiculously coincidental that he always got the same cashier at the Target. (Also known as that cashier au from tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bilbo's Target® Mystery Man

Now, Bilbo was perfectly aware that Hobbiton was small. It was in fact, the smallest burrough of the Shire. But that did not equate to an explanation as to why he always got the same cashier at Target® no matter the day, hour, or level of the store.

His first time in the over-commercialised, red and white, lemon-scented building he found himself already missing the feeling of the old-fashioned outdoor market of his childhood, put off by the cool interior and systemized layout of the two levelled building. He was quite sure a small place like Hobbiton didn't even need a superstore; despite reading in the paper that this was the smallest Target® ever built. So Bilbo gathered up all of the things on his list, quick as he could and then went to the nearest register, a young teen with brunette hair pulled into a bun standing there, deciding to skip the self check-out in order to avoid embarrassing himself. He lowered his head for a moment to fish his wallet out of his pocket and when he looked up there was a tall, muscular man standing at the check-out, passing Bilbo's purchases over the scanner. Bilbo frowned in confusion, taking in the grey at the man's temples and the neatly pressed black shirt he wore, a badge reading "manager" pinned there. 

"Do you need any bags?" The man asks, his deep rumble of a voice doing traitorous things to his poor heart. 

"Oh, um, three please." The man nods and thrusts three plastic bags at Bilbo, who takes them, somewhat affronted by the man's gruffness, then packs his things away, says a muffled "Good day!" And walks off, catching sights of the brunette he had thought was at the register snickering with a blond young man and pointing to something behind him. 

\---

It wasn't as if Bilbo had many reasons to come into the Target, beyond minor things like groceries and last-minute birthday gifts, and so it wasn't as if there was a specific pattern that coincided with when he would stop by the superstore. Yet it seemed that every time, without fail, the same gruff, handsome man would be at the register when he went to pay. 

Once he had just run in before work to grab a pack of gum- he had an important meeting about his book after all- and even though he had just gotten there and there was no conceivable way that the person at the register would change from the young brunette who was always there to the manager, as soon as he had turned from the display to the register, there he was. He was panting slightly and looked winded, yet he was there, scanning the gum and handing Bilbo change for the five pound note he had handed him. Bilbo thanked him, and when he reached the automatic doors he heard laughter and a growled "Get back to work!"

\---

On some occasions the man actually talked to him. Even though it was generally just to ask how he was, how many bags he needed, or if he would like the receipt in the bag or not. The most notable time had been when he had his nephew Frodo tagging along in the trolley-seat, as he was babysitting for the weekend so Prim and Drogo could go be adventurous.

"Would you like a candy bar my lad?" Bilbo asks the five-year-old, smiling when he nods in return. "Which kind?" 

"The swirly one," Frodo replies, quiet for his age, but no less intelligent for it. Bilbo nods and picks up the Curly Wurly©, placing it on the conveyor. When he looks up, wallet in hand, he sees the man staring at him strangely, and gets an unusually gruff hello. 

"Hello, how are you?" Bilbo asks; as  _someone_ has to be polite in these situations. 

"Fine. How many bags?" 

"Just the one please, I'm sure Frodo will want to carry his own chocolate bar. Right my lad?"

"Yes, Uncle Bilbo," the boy replies, flushing under the attention of a stranger. His mysterious cashier seems to relax at the words and hands Bilbo his bag with an almost-smile, the corners of his mouth turned up. Frodo waves hesitantly to the man as they leave burying his face in his Uncle's coat when he receives a wave in return.

\---

A few months passed and still Bilbo would always have the same man waiting for him at the register, no matter how often he had seen either the long-haired brunette or bright-eyed blond there minutes earlier. 

"What's your name?" The man startles, ice blue eyes going wide as he thinks through his response. 

"Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield. Why?"

"Well, it seems to me like we should at least know each other's names, given how often we see each other. Mine's Bilbo by the way. Bilbo Baggins." The man whispers his name, as if testing the words on his tongue, then grins, an earth-shattering, eye-twinkling grin that had Bilbo suppressing the desire to squeal giddily and swoon. 

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Bilbo."

"The pleasure's all mine I assure you," Bilbo replies, picking up his bags and walking away, turning back with a wave and a joyous smile. 

\---

 Now that they knew each other, more or less, Bilbo found their encounters at the check-out much more amiable. Thorin is kind, if short of words, and when he smiles... Well when that happens Bilbo is a few seconds from fainting away to heaven, but that was beside the point. 

It was on a dreary kind of Tuesday that their interactions came to a head. Bilbo had dropped by the store to pick up some bread and, in a deferral to his mood, a tub of cookie dough ice cream. He was distracted when he approached the register, and when Thorin asked him what was wrong he found himself sighing deeply.

"Just some work troubles, I had my book sent back again."

"I'm sorry," Thorin replies, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Bilbo pats his hand absentmindedly and takes his bags. 

"Thank you. There's nothing for it I suppose. Goodbye Thorin." Bilbo walks away and it's only when he reaches the parking lot that he feels as if he forgot something. 

"Oi! Mr. Baggins!" He turns to find the brunette man running up to him, "Kíli" according to his name tag. "You forgot your receipt at the register."

"Oh, uh, thank you! I'm a bit out of sorts it seems." 

"Not a problem! Cheers!" The young man jogs back to the store and Bilbo makes his way to his car, sinking into the driver's seat with a groan. He then looks down at the receipt in his hand, seeing the outline of hastily written black Sharpie marks through the paper. He turns it over to find a phone number, under which reads, "Will you go out for dinner with me? -Thorin Durin."

Suddenly months of having the same cashier, stilted conversation, and bags thrust in his face click together; and a bright smile works its way onto Bilbo's face with the epiphany. And so he digs his mobile out of his pocket, pulls up his messenging service (he's not going to call the poor man at work) and types a quick message.

_Hello Thorin, it's Bilbo. I would just like to say that there are better ways of getting to know someone then stalking them while they're doing their shopping. However, I would greatly enjoy having dinner with you. Just one question though. What on earth is this Durin business? Sent 4:25pm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we have Bilbo's point of view of the whole thing! Thorin's is coming soon and will be where all of the hilarity happens :) stay tuned!


	2. Thorin's Cute Customer Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin didn't know why he had agreed to take up the management position (for his boys, anything for his boys) at the new target in the sleepy town of Hobbiton, but if all of his customers looked like that, he'd gladly do it again; without complaint this time.

Thorin Durin was a simple man, he worked hard, did his best at raising two teenage boys, and managed to hold his life together one day at a time. When he had gotten a call from Head Office saying that they wanted him transferred from his comfortable position as the manager at Erebor to take over for the struggling new addition in Hobbiton he had almost quit then and there, especially once he found out who was taking over his position; a dragon of a man that constantly smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap body spray. But he had to think of his boys first, of how Fili was about to go to college and how Kili needed a new computer for school, and so he forced a smile, and said that yes, he would love to take the job. So he had packed up his life and his boys and moved into a small cottage built into the hillside, just on the outskirts of town. He had hired some of the locals and set his nephews on the registers and that was that.

The day he first saw the man that would send him into an existential crisis he was walking to the registers, intent on asking his nephew about a phone call he had received from the High School. The man had his head down, attempting to free his wallet from the confines of his incredibly well-tailored trousers' pocket, honey and copper curls obscuring his eyes. By the time he had reached the register the man was already standing there and he had unknowingly pushed Kili out of the way. the man looked up at him, with a slight confused frown pushing his eyebrows together. He had lovely blue eyes, lapis lazuli with a ring of slate gray. Thorin found his throat closing and mind blanking and so he went on autopilot, scanning the man's purchases mechanically. the man still looked slightly confused so he cleared his throat. " Do you need any bags?" he asked, his voice rumbling and slightly choked. And now he sounded like a serial killer, lovely.

"Oh, um, three please," the man replies, and his voice is soothing and sweet, the kind that was perfect for telling stories, and Thorin almost closed his eyes in comfort. instead he thrust three bags at the man, who looked incredibly adorable when cross, Thorin noted. The man huffed a " Good day!" then left, as if trying to get as far from Thorin as he possibly could, giving a suspicious look to his nephews, who were sniggering by the doors.  Thorin most certainly had not tracked the pleasing bounce of his arse as he left either. Kili walked back over to his register, nudging Thorin out of the way.

"Well, you really cocked that up didn't you?" Thorin cuffs the back of his nephews head, and stalks off. 

"Get back to work!"

\---

 Thorin knew he was being ridiculous, there was no plausible reason why he should be at the register every time the poor man had to come into the store. That did nothing to make his overlarge attraction to the man go away, nor his apparent inability to say more than a few words to him. And yet, he would be at the register every time the man came in, no matter what he had to do to get there, much to the amusement of his nephews. Most of the time all he had to do was jog over to the register the man was approaching and shift whichever of his nephews was there out of the way, but occasionally some more... drastic measures were called for.

It was fairly early in the day when the man ran into the store, heading directly to a display of candy bars and packages of gum, and the moment his back was turned Thorin took off, sprinting over to Kili's register, using his long legs to clear the registers that got in his way, propelling himself over three with little effort. He used his hip to bump his nephew out of the way, ignoring the sputtered protests from the floor, and tried to control his breathing. He was still panting a little when the man turned around, and he was sure he was a bit red in the face, but he just swiped the gum the man had in his hand, ran it over the scanner and handed him change for his fiver. The man kept shooting him suspicious glances on his way out, but Thorin just ignored them. He ignored the wide-eyed stares of his employees and the laughter of his older nephew, and took his phone to delete the video he was sure had been taken, then went back to his office.

\---

The times he actually talked to the man were the nicest, Thorin found. He could finally say more than just "How many bags would you like?" and found the man polite and often inquired after his health. He was still slightly embarrassed by the "Great Baby Misunderstanding" as his nephews liked to call it. As soon as Thorin had seen the man pushing a trolley with a toddler sat in it he had assumed the man to be the father. It wasn't a strange assumption to make, and so Thorin found himself jealous of whomever had been able to give the man such a cute child, and had adopted what his nephews had dubbed " Uncle's Glare of Doom". He barely managed a stiff hello, scanning the man's few purchases, including the chocolate bar he had let his son pick out.

"Hello. How are you?" the man replied, still attempting to be polite.

"Fine. How many bags?"

"Just the one please, I'm sure Frodo will want to carry his own chocolate bar. Right my lad?"

"Yes, Uncle Bilbo," the boy says, a flush rising in his chubby cheeks when Thorin looks at him. Thorin meanwhile was trying to hold back the large smile that threatened to form on his face. He does feel himself relax and the corners of his mouth twitch up as he hands the man his bag, noticing the other man smiling a little back. The man leaves the trolley with the others at the front and the little boy waves back at him, hiding in his Uncle's shoulder when Thorin waves back.

\---

It had been  few months now since he had first seen the man and his nephews were constantly telling him that he was approaching stalker-like behaviour, but he found nothing wrong with his interactions with the man; it's not as if he followed him home or anything. He was quite surprised, however, when one day the man blurted out " What's your name?" Thorin could feel his eyes going wide, unsure how he should respond. Should he give him just his first name or his whole name? Would his full name be too much? would it be impolite to just give his first name?

"Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield. Why?" The question tacked on at the end had been more for himself then the man in front of him. Why, as in why would he just blurt out the stupid nickname Dwalin had given him in college? Why didn't he give him his real name? Why was he so enamoured with this stranger that he was constantly mucking up his words, if he spoke at all?

"Well, it seems to me like we should at least know each other's names, given how often we see each other. Mine's Bilbo, by the way. Bilbo Baggins." Thorin mouths the name, tasting the feel of the words on his tongue, then smiles happily. The man seems shocked at first- and now he knows why Fili always tells him he needs to smile more- but responds with his own hesitant smile.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance Bilbo."

"The pleasure's all mine, I assure you." Bilbo replies, taking his bag and walking away with a slight skip in his step, turning back with a joyous smile to wave. Thorin stands there for a while more, smile stupidly to himself, until Fili walks over and takes his arm.

"Come on, Romeo, you promised me and Kili lunch at that sandwich shop downtown." He loosens Fili's grip on his arm, then wraps said arm around his shoulder in a rare gesture of affection. Despite all his talk of being too old for P.D.As his nephew relaxes into the side hug. Kili joins in on Thorin's other side, not even pretending to be too old for his Uncle's affection.

\---

 After leaning each others names, their encounters grew much better. Bilbo did not seem to mind that he spoke little, and would chatter on endlessly about his day or his little nephew Frodo, or about the adventure series he was hoping to get published. Bilbo was always so happy, it seemed, gesticulating wildly with his hands as he talked, always with a smile that was for Thorin alone, and so when he came in one day with his head down it was impossible not to notice his mood. That Tuesday had been rather awful, gray and damp, and it was enough to drive anyone to being malcontent, but Bilbo's sadness, and the tub of cookie dough ice cream, spoke of deeper woes.

"Is something wrong Bilbo?" Thorin asked, bagging the man's purchases for him.

"Just some work troubles, I had my book sent back again." Thorin makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat and reaches out to lay a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. The corners of his mouth twitch up briefly and he pats Thorin's hand absently.

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. There's nothing for it I suppose. Good bye Thorin." Bilbo takes his bags and leaves, walking dejectedly to the doors with Thorin watching him the whole way. when he turns back to the register he notices that he forgot to put Bilbo's receipt in the bag. Kili offers to take it for him if Thorin covers the register and so he does, watching his nephew go, curious when he stops just before the doors, then he shakes his head and turns to the next customer.

He gets the text a few minutes later in his office.

_Hello Thorin, it's Bilbo. I would just like to say that there are better ways of getting to know someone then stalking them while they're doing their shopping. However, I would greatly enjoy having dinner with you. Just one question though. What is this Durin business? Received 4:27pm_

In that moment several things went through Thorin's mind. the first was that he was the luckiest man alive. The second was that he needed to learn how to cook. And the third was that he was going to strangle his nephew, and then buy him the best damn laptop they had at PC World.

_How about you come to Number 27 Bagshot Row, at 7:30 and I'll tell you then. Sent 4:30pm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we have Thorin's POV, and the promised extreme cashier hurdling :) This was really fun to write and I hope you all enjoyed it! :) Also, I do not intend to hog this AU all to myself so if anyone wants to write it id be interested to see other takes on it as well.  
> Update: I've decided to write the dinner :)


	3. Dinner Date Dynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin had never properly cooked food a day in his life. After he had gotten the boys their eating habits had involved copious amounts of pot noodles and pizza, with the occasional easy dish like spaghetti or- on rare occasions- pancakes. And so he found himself staring at his pantry, feeling completely screwed.

Thorin had never properly cooked food a day in his life. After he had gotten the boys their eating habits had involved copious amounts of pot noodles and pizza, with the occasional easy dish like spaghetti or- on rare occasions- pancakes. And so he found himself staring at his pantry, feeling completely screwed.

"You could just do what any normal person does and look up something on the internet," Kíli says, popping up behind him and placing his head on Thorin's shoulder. Thorin smiles and pats his unruly hair down before shrugging him off. 

"Alright, I'll give it a try, now get out of here. I'm sure you and your brother can find something to entertain yourselves with for the rest of the day." Kíli sticks his tongue out, but give his Uncle a hug before he skips out of the kitchen. He yells back a reply to the boys' calls of "See you later Uncle Thorin!" And "Don't do anything we wouldn't do!".

Thorin sighs and chuckles to himself before digging his phone out of his pocket and opening up Google, typing in "simple dinner recipes". He scrolls for a bit, overwhelmed by the amount of options and then perks up when he stops on one that reads "Simple Pork Stir-fry" and clicks on it. A quick read-through of the instructions shows that the recipe won't go completely over Thorin's head and so he sets to finding all of the ingredients in either his pantry or fridge, thankful for this mornings crazy shopping trip that left him with more food then he knew what to do with. He starts by soaking the broccoli in water, although he has no idea why and starts slicing pork into cubes, then marinating it in a simple combination of spices, chopped garlic and teriyaki sauce. Then he starts chopping the bell peppers, making sure to carve out the seeds, then sets to slicing mushrooms, the broccoli and more garlic. He checks his phone again, then adds garlic and ginger to the largest pan he has, because he doesn't own the wok that the recipe calls for. Finally he adds the mixed vegetables, mixing them around with a spoon because he isn't quite confident enough for the pan flicking demonstrated in the recipe's accompanying photographs. Then he swipes at his phone screen that had just begun to darken, and reads that he's supposed to take the vegetable mixture out of the pan, add more garlic and ginger, then start browning the meat. When the meat is browned on all sides Thorin slides the vegetables back into the pan and stirs them again, leaving them to cook for another fifteen minutes before he takes the pan off of the heat and sets it aside. Then he takes the box of quick-cooking rice and makes a batch big enough for the two of them, and just as he takes the pot off of the stove, he hears a light but firm knock at his door, and can't help the smile that blooms across his face. He sets the pot down on a cool burner and wipes his hands off on a towel before answering the door. He's greeted by the sight of Bilbo in a pressed green shirt, the flecks of green in his deep blue eyes coming starkly into view. His honey curls are brushed neatly to one side instead of the typical controlled mess they seem to be when he arrives at the store. Thorin lets his eyes track down to plump thighs in close-fitted black trousers and-

"Thorin?" 

"I'm sorry, I seem to have gotten... distracted."

"Oh, well that's alright. I was just saying that I brought a pie with me, I wasn't sure what wine to bring since I didn't know what you were making- it smells heavenly by the way- and so I figured dessert was a safe bet. It's uh, coconut cream. And I'm sure that your, uh, nephews will enjoy the leftovers," Bilbo says, his face a little flushed, and Thorin finds his rambling endlessly endearing.

"That sounds wonderful. I'm sure they'll love it just as much as I will." Thorin realizes that Bilbo is still hovering awkwardly on the doorstep and immediately ushers him inside- he can almost hear the sound of Dis' cackling ringing through his mind. He takes the box of pie out of Bilbo's hands, leading him through the kitchen so that he can put in in the fridge. He almost drops it when he hears Bilbo let out a pleased sigh at the sight and smell of the food, but manages to steady himself on one of the fridge's shelves. He takes a deep breath then straightens to grab plates from the cupboard, turning to find a blushing Bilbo pulling silverware out of the top drawer by the stove. He raises an eyebrow but ignores it, laying down a bed of rice on each plate and lays the stir-fry on top of it. Bilbo took a seat at the dining room table, moving the chair closer to the end where he had laid out the cutlery, supposedly so they wouldn't be yelling down the table at each other. He sets the plates down and pours them each a glass of red wine before sitting down, entirely aware of the way Bilbo's feet press against his under the table. They talk a little while they eat, Bilbo about the picture Frodo made for him in preschool the other day, and Thorin about Fili getting accepted to King's College London for his Nursing Program. They're halfway through the meal when Thorin feels a warmth settle on his thigh, and he tries not to tense, for the hand is not unwelcome, though unexpected. Instead he smiles at Bilbo and continues on with the conversation, while simultaneously trying not to turn red in the face or squeak when he talks. He ends up with that hand wrapped around his, slightly sweaty and clammy, but warm, and their fingers seem to mesh together like matching puzzle pieces. For dessert they end up on the loveseat, balancing plates precariously on their laps, wine glasses on the glass table and a nonsense comedy on the telly. Thorin melts when Bilbo snuggles into his side and wraps the arm he isn't using to eat around Bilbo's slender shoulders, enjoying the man's hum of contentment and the way he nuzzles Thorin's shoulder. He adores the halting way in which Bilbo laughs, as if unsure of himself, but unable to be anything but completely candid with his emotions, and Thorin adored watching the little changes take over Bilbo's face for brief moments, each hue of emotion clearly visible, the transition from sadness to joy, the gradation from a simple smile to full-blown grin, all were completely and wholly on display and Thorin did not want to look away for even a moment lest he miss something. 

Bilbo is almost asleep when the movie finishes, his eyes drooping and soft, relaxed breaths escaping his plush lips. When the  movie ends and a particularly loud commercial comes on, Bilbo bolts upright, looking sheepish. "Sorry about that," he says, cheeks flushing and a shy smile on his lips.

"It's not a problem, my nephew Kili does that all the time, says there's just something about me that puts people to sleep. Come to think of it, I'm not sure if he meant I was comfortable or boring." Bilbo laughs at that and relaxes back against Thorin again.

"Frodo once told me that he likes to cuddle with me the most because I have the best 'stomach pillow'. I know he meant it as a good thing but I couldn't help but feel as if he had just called me fat."

"Fat is not the word I would use," Thorin says, brushing Bilbo's messed up curls out of his face. " Perhaps shapely or beautifully curved, but never fat."

Bilbo's blush is lovely, but the way he leans in close, eyelids, falling slightly to press a gentle open-mouthed kiss to Thorin's lips is even better. Thorin lets his eyes fall closed as he returns the kiss, it remains unheated for now, just gentle brushes of lips together, hot breath mingling together and the sweet scent of coconut drifting between them. It's as Thorin is wrapping his hands around Bilbo's waist to deepen the kiss that the front door opens, knocking lightly against the wall and loud footsteps announce the return of his nephews. Thorin sighs and mentally plans their demise while Bilbo chuckles, and pulls away, not far enough that the two aren't still cuddled together, but enough that the boys won't be potentially scarred.

"Hey Uncle Thorin, how was your..." Kili stops in the doorway to the living room, mouth open as he took in the two on the couch before he broke into a beaming smile. "Well, I see it went well, I'll just get Fili and we'll leave you two to your canoodling." He winks and prepares to leave but is stopped by Bilbo.

"That's alright lad, I should be going anyways, I have a meeting tomorrow with a publisher." He turns to Thorin, looking ready to apologize, but Thorin stops him with a kiss- internally squealing with delight at the fact that he's aloud to do that now. Thorin stands and offers him a hand up, which he takes with a pleased grin. " Oh, and there's some pie in the fridge for you and your brother later." The speed with which the boy leaves for the kitchen is astonishing, as are the thuds of footsteps following not too long afterwards.

"I'm sorry about that, they're usually more polite."

"Oh, it's fine. I was a teenage boy once too." Thorin is sure Bilbo was a saint compared to his nephews as a teenager, but decides to keep that to himself. instead he walks Bilbo to the door, slipping outside with him so they can have a proper goodbye in private. He finds he has bend a few inches to reach Bilbo's lips, and when he gets there he kisses him chastely. Bilbo smiles, then drags his tongue across Thorin's lower lip, slipping it inside when Thorin's mouth opens, guiding the man into a hungry kiss that leaves both of them weak-kneed and shaking with pleasure. A bang on the window causes them to spring apart and Thorin glares at the outlined figures of his nephews, looking horrified at getting caught spying, they wave sheepishly, then hurry away from the window, plates clasped tight to their chests. Both Bilbo and Thorin laugh heartily, then share a last parting kiss.

"  I'll call you tomorrow, alright?" Thorin asks, looking hopefully at Bilbo with his hands in his pockets.

"Alright, perhaps we can talk about our next date then, although I do have a few ideas already. I'm sure it will be quite the adventure," Bilbo replies, winking cheekily at Thorin before walking to his car, hips swaying more languidly then necessary and waving before he drives off. Thorin sighs and is about to go inside and reprimand his good-for-nothing, spying nephews when he gets a text.

 _I almost forgot! Why didn't you tell me your last name was Durin? Received 10:15pm_ Thorin sighed, but knew he'd have to tell the truth, embarrassing or not, and tapped out his reply.

_I was so flustered by your question that I just blurted out the nickname my college roommate gave me. You can be very distracting. Sent 10:17pm_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it Bilbo!  
> All right, I'm pretty sure this is the end, unless you guys wanna see Bilbo's POV for this as well? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it and if you want, read one of my other fics? Thanks for reading, bye :)


	4. Dinner, Dessert, and Declarations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's Pov of the dinner date :)

It was twelve in the afternoon on the day of his date with Thorin when Bilbo was struck with inspiration: he would bake Thorin a pie. It would be rude of him not to bring something after the man invited him to dinner at his home, and he couldn't just bring wine as he wasn't sure which one would accompany the dinner properly. And so pie- coconut cream to be exact. And since the filling took four hours to set in the refrigerator Bilbo could start now and still have plenty of time to top it with whipping cream and get ready before he had to leave. And so he went to his kitchen, washed his hands, and got out all of his ingredients. He pulls out his recipe card box, tying the strings on his cherry red apron one-handed, rifling through the box with the other. He surveys the ingredients list, pleased when he finds he remembered everything and gets started, spreading coconut on a cookie sheet to toast, wax paper lining it to prevent sticking. He pulls that out after five mins at 350℉ and sets on making the filling in a large saucepan; combing heavy cream,sugar, eggs, flour, and salt until the mixture boils. After moving the pan off of the heat he mixes in most of the fragrant toasted coconut slivers and heady vanilla, sighing with pleasure at the scent. He pops a pre-made pie crust (he always keeps one or two in the fridge for emergencies) into the oven to cook, and when it's done he pours the filling into the pie. He sets this in the refrigerator, noting that it is now 1:00 and so he decides to read a couple chapters of his book before he goes to get ready. 

\---

By 5:30 he's given up on his wardrobe. There are clothes littering his floor, his bed, his desk, even his reading nook, and still he is no closer to picking out an outfit for dinner than he was when he started half an hour ago. His hair is a complete mess, he's quite sure he has a spot of cream drying on his left cheek and he's now sporting a bruise from where he bumped his hip on the dresser. At least the pie was finished, he thought to himself, and quite beautifully too; the whipped cream was mixed with a hint of vanilla extract and the toasted coconut was artfully dusted over the top of it. He wished he could say the same about himself but here he was standing in front of his closet in nothing but black socks and snug red silk pants. He sighs for what feels like the millionth time as he pulls out another pressed shirt, prepared to toss it to the floor as well when his eyes catch on the colour. The shirt is a lovely green, not light enough to be too yellow, and not dark enough to be forest green either. It was almost the exact green of his mother's eyes, actually, soft and dark but bright and exuberant all at once and he knows this shirt is perfect. He pairs it with black trousers, as excellently tailored as all of his others, and digs some polished black Oxfords from his meagre shoe rack. This time his sigh is one of relief and he smiles as he heads to the bathroom for a quick shower. 

\---

He leaves at precisely seven, not wanting to arrive too early, but wanting to leave enough time for potential traffic. He slides the neatly boxed pie into the passengers seat of his car, buckles up, and takes off. He gets to Thorin's house at 7:20, and so he hovers in his car for another ten minutes; checking his hair in the sunshield mirror, straightening out imaginary wrinkles in his shirt and hastily chewing gum, then spitting it out, keeping the scent of mint, but not the disgusting sound of chewing. At 7:28 he makes his way to the door, pie in hand, and knocks firmly. His heart beats nervously at the sound of heavy footsteps, and then the door opens to reveal Thorin. The man looks lovely in a shirt almost exactly the same shade as his icy blue eyes, wonderfully offset by light grey trousers and charmingly colourful maroon socks. 

"Hello! I brought a pie for dessert, I hope you like coconut." Bilbo says with a smile that turns to a frown the longer Thorin stares at him, seemingly lost in his own world. "Thorin?" 

"Sorry, I seem to have gotten... distracted," the man replies, shaking his head.

"Oh, well that's alright. I was just saying that I brought a pie with me, I wasn't sure what wine to bring since I didn't know what you were making- it smells heavenly by the way- and so I figured dessert was a safe bet. It's, uh, coconut cream. And I'm sure your, uh, nephews will enjoy the leftovers," Bilbo can feel the flush rising in his cheeks and he inwardly curses himself for rambling on and on. 

"That sounds wonderful. I'm sure they'll love it just as much as I will." Thorin ushers Bilbo inside after that, taking the pie from his hands carefully, and leading him into the house and to the kitchen. Bilbo inhales the delightful scent of what appears to be a stir fry, sighing pleasurably.  He also stares at Thorin bent over to put his pie in the fridge for a smidge too long to be entirely appropriate, but in his defense the man had an incredible arse. He blushes at his own thoughts and turns quickly as Thorin straightens, opening the first drawer he sees and luckily finding silverware in it. He sets the table in the dining room, placing them both at the end of the table so they won't be yelling down the table at each other. He takes a seat and watches as Thorin sets the plates of food down then pours them both a glass of red wine.

The food is delicious and the conversation flows well, and about halfway through the dinner Bilbo feels confident enough to up his flirting. He slowly moves his hand under the table, gently sliding it over Thorin's knee to rest halfway up his thigh. He feels Thorin tense slightly, and is about to move his hand when the man relaxes and smiles, a flush that has nothing to do with the wine blooming on his cheeks. It's not long before another hand joins Bilbo's, tangling their fingers together, and although both of their palms are sweaty and warm, the overall sense of comfort and rightness make the gesture perfect. 

Dessert is lovely, taken on the faded loveseat in the living room, some sort of comedy film on the telly. Bilbo starts off sitting next to Thorin, the man's solid frame a press of warmth against his side, but then he thinks 'to hell with it' and tucks his feet up on the couch, leaning onto Thorin's shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. He hums in contentment when a warm arm drapes itself around his shoulders and takes another bite of his pie. The movie is actually quite funny, and Bilbo can't help but laugh, trying not to be too loud but unable to fully contain himself. Sometimes his eyes would flicker up to Thorin only to find the man watching him instead of the film. His next smile had nothing to do with the film's next punchline and everything to do with the smug feeling of knowing that Thorin appeared to enjoy watching him enough to not notice when he was caught.  Bilbo slides his empty plate onto the table and brings his other arm around Thorin's stomach, trying to press up against the man as much as possible, sinking into the feeling of warmth and comfort that exudes from him (and maybe because Thorin has very lovely musculature, but that's neither here nor there) until he finds himself drifting off.

A booming commercial startles him into full alertness, sending him bolt upright. He turns his head to find Thorin smiling amusedly at him and manages a sheepish smile in return. 

"Sorry about that," he says, blushing. 

"It's not a problem, my nephew Kíli does that all the time, says there's just something about me that puts people to sleep. Come to think of it, I'm not sure if he meant I was comfortable or boring." 

Bilbo laughs at that, deciding to settle back into Thorin's side. 

"Frodo once told me that he likes to cuddle with me the most because I have the best 'stomach pillow'. I know he meant it as a good thing but I couldn't help but feel as if he had just called me fat."

"Fat is not the word I would use," Thorin says as he brushes some curls out of Bilbo's face. "Perhaps shapely or beautifully curved, but never fat." 

That was... not something he'd ever heard before. Bilbo felt his mouth fall open and a blush spread on his cheeks, and before he realizes what he's doing he's  leaning in and pressing an open-mouthed kiss on Thorin's lips. He lets out a pleased hum when Thorin immediately returns the kiss, and closes his eyes to focus on the sensation of gentle, sparsely chapped lips gliding over his and the welcome scent of coconut drifting between them.  He feels Thorin wrap gentle hands around his waist and prepares for the kiss to get deeper when the front door opens with a light bang and two sets of footsteps make their way into the entrance hall. Bilbo pours, but leans back from Thorin, staying at his side, but no longer close enough for kissing. 

"Hey Uncle Thorin. How was your..." Kíli starts, then stops as he actually raises his eyes from his mobile, taking in the couple on the couch with his mouth open. He shuts it with a loud click. "Well, I see it went well, I'll just get Fíli and we'll leave you two to your canoodling."

"That's alright lad," Bilbo says as the boy is about to leave. "I should be going anyways, I have a meeting tomorrow with a publisher."

He turns to Thorin to apologize, but is stopped by a sweet kiss. Thorin stands and offers him a hand up, which he accepts with a smile. "Oh and there's a pie in the fridge for you and your brother later." The speed with which the boy takes off is extremely gratifying and Bilbo chuckles under his breath when Fíli's footsteps join his brother's. 

 "I'm sorry about that, they're usually more polite then that." 

"Oh, its fine. I was a teenage boy once too." He grins wryly as he thinks of stealing cooling pies from windowsills, and some creative instances of breaking and entering with his friend Nori. It still amazes him that they never got caught. Thorin follows him outside, shutting the door behind them for privacy. Thorin has to bend to reach Bilbo's lips and kiss him chastely, and Bilbo sighs inwardly. He sweeps his tongue along Thorin's lower lip, slipping it inside when the man's mouth opens, the kiss turning hungry and leaving them both more than a little starry-eyed and shivering with pleasure. A knock on the window seperates them and they turn to find Thorin's nephews in the window, horrified at being caught, and turning tail at their Uncle's glare. Bilbo bursts out laughing, Thorin joining him, before they kiss one last time. 

"I'll call you tomorrow then?" Thorin asks, his hands shoved in his pockets and ice blue eyes flickering to his sheepishly. 

"Alright, perhaps we can discuss our next date then, although I do have a few ideas already. I'm sure it will be quite the adventure," Bilbo replies, attempting a cheeky wink before walking to his car, putting an extra bit of sway into the swing of his hips. He gets into his seat and starts his car when he remembers.

 _I almost forgot! Why didn't you tell me your last name was Durin?_   _Sent 10:15pm._

 

_I was so flustered by your question that I just blurted out the nickname my college roommate gave me. You can be very distracting. Received 10:17pm._

Bilbo snickered in his car for a good four minutes before he actually drove away, smiling until his head hit the pillow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I'm pretty sure this is it unless I get new inspiration or something, I hope you enjoyed it! I just love writing Bilbo's POV, I mean I like Thorin's too, but there's just something about Bilbo's combination of societal menace and flustered politeness with a dash of sassy sarcasm that endears me to him :)   
> Side note: Thorin's socks are partially based on Richard Armitage's fondness for interesting sock choices.


End file.
